Seize your sanity by the tail,
fling him around, toss him off your ship,
feel his fragility go sailing
from between your tining teeth;
then mount your muse as figurehead instead:
her terrible fingers clawing at calling winds,
The mind is nothing
but rolling, crashing waves and
keeps watch atop his prow and
marks each waving tongue of remarkable thought
that grinds Earth’s exoskeleton
to fine oblivion; and measures
each breath of wind fought.
as milling-wheels of time
turn weak-willed wheat to strong chaff.
Then adds yeast and the heart’s heat,
and eats of his head’s risen bread,
and plays in his sea.
The artist an insane child,
splitting curling oceans of thought
with glory and an
inner peace much-sought